Happy Birthday
by Insane Winged Girl
Summary: Max mourning... someone. Read to find out who. One of my better sad ones, I think. Read and reveiw please. Microscopic amount of Fax, just a warning.


_Okay, I'm aiming for raw sadness and pain here, so please tell me if I'm anywhere near my goal._

**Disclaimer: I do not own. Anything. Excepting a rose with dried not-entirely-human blood on the thorns.**

Max was on her back, a thin blanket over her, eyes wide open and examining the stars. She couldn't sleep.

She stood up, wrapping the blanket around her narrow shoulders, her feet still in boots because she never took them off, in case she had to run or fight immediately when she woke.

Her combat boots crunched dirt and dead leaves under them, and her mind wandered.

Although she was still sharp enough to notice that Fang, who was on watch, was looking at her.

"It's April 14th," she said, her voice tired and ghost-like.

He watched her walk into the forest, and didn't try to stop her or ask questions.

She had known he would get it, would understand.

He was the only one she had told, and even Angel was afraid to try and read her mind now. There was too much sorrow, too much darkness, and too much pain for her to handle.

Too much for Max to handle, though she still acted tough and un-afraid.

Only Angel and Fang saw through her forced normalcy, Angel with her powers, and Fang because he loved her.

Max walked, her eyes downwards, watching each new leaf be ground to dust under her footsteps. Her head hurt, her chest was aching pain, the emotional kind you can't get rid of. It surfaced in her even more on this day every year.

_A two year anniversary,_ she thought to herself.

Shouldn't two years have stifled her pain? No. It only made it worse and more intense and harder to forget.

"Nine years," she said, her voice void of anything, flat and monotonic. "Nine – years old." This time, her voice broke, and Max didn't care. She didn't have to keep up the charade anymore.

A warn tear rolled down her cheek as she stooped to pick a crimson-colored flower from the rich forest earth. The petals splayed outwards, doing the joyful dance of springtime. "At least it didn't hurt him. At least he had been calm, even in the midst of the fight, and at least she, Max had been able to give him a small amount of happiness before he – died.

Another tear rolled down her face, and then Max was sinking to her knees, her eyes filled with tears.

Her hands clasped the rose until the thorns began to tear her skin, and she felt fresh blood on her palms, but she still didn't care.

And then Max was sobbing, really crying from sadness for the first time in her life.

She had cried from pain, like when she had dislocated her shoulder in a spar, and it had hurt so much she couldn't see straight.

She had cried from despair when she had thought Angel was lost from her for good.

And she had cried from relief when she had cut herself on the beach, and Fang had been angry and her Flock had been scared, but still comforted her when she had begun to sob into Fang's chest. She had known she would never be alone then, and that was certainly a sense of relief.

But now sorrow overwhelmed her, and she cried into the scarlet rose, her eyes stinging and her face wet. There were streaks on her face where the tears rinsed away the dirt that she hadn't had a chance to clean off.

The whole world seemed to be sobbing with her now, and Max felt rain drops hitting the bare skin on her arms and face. The trees leaned towards her, and the nighttime sky seemed to loom closer, its head bowing along with hers.

"I'm sorry, brother." She whispered into the flower, repeating it over and over until the words didn't make any sense to her anymore, until they seemed like a jumble of sounds, but she was sure he heard her. He had to hear her.

She felt warmth on her shoulder, like someone's hand, and she turned, his name escaping her lips as she did.

There was a boy behind her. Smaller than Angel, his red hair touseled, and his blue eyes shining. He was young, the picture of health and happiness. "It's better here, Max," He told her, his voice no longer gruff and laced with pain as each and every syllable formed. "I promise, it's better here. At least for me."

Max wrapped her arms around him, her tears soaking his jacket. "I miss you, brother, I miss you," she told him, over and over.

"I miss you too, Max," he whispered to her, and then he was gone, and she was alone again.

Max stood, her head bowed. Then she left, leaving a rose with bloody thorns and three whispered words behind her. "Happy Birthday, Ari."

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

_Okay, this had better make you sad. I was practically crying when I wrote this._

_Please review and tell me if you liked it. Also, I know Ari's birthday is in April, but I do not remember a date being mentioned. If it was, and I got it wrong, please tell me._

_-Insane Winged Girl_


End file.
